


Mindless

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Drabble, Except it's not?, Gen, Inktober 2019, Microscopfic, Pottsfield, inspired by OTGW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-25 19:44:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Just a short piece inspired by Over the Garden Wall that fit the prompt for Inktober day two.





	Mindless

**Author's Note:**

> Inktober day two: Mindless.

The night took on a chill as the brothers made their winding way through the towering forest. The surrounding trees loosed a steady rain of colored leaves for their weary, boot-clad feet to trample and crunch. They had been walking for what had surely been ages and, in their exceeding youth, the pace of progression had slowed to a crawl as the sun lowered itself nearer the horizon. They knew not where they were nor to where they were headed, but held within them a single word which guided their souls: home.

The further they walked, the more they lost. The bags hitched high on their backs grew heavy, and so they removed any non-essentials and abandoned them by the trunk of a particularly large maple tree. In time, each of their remaining belongings grew burdensome, and they divested themselves of books, papers, pencils, pens, markers, bottles, knick-knacks, and, eventually, any and all overarching thought. It was only when their very names had been left behind that a town came into sight in the distance.

The brothers, however, found themselves without the expected influx of energy and continued their trudging the limits of the town, which was marked by a sign of rotted wood with faded carvings which read, in lilting script “Wrinfield: population 167”.

The brothers made but a moment's pause to read the sign and take in the smoke pillars billowing from the brick-lain chimneys of the scant and scattered cottages before tracking their sluggish way forward in search of people. They knocked on doors, peeked in windows, and cautiously pushed open the heavy, wooden doors, but not even those with surely-lit hearths gave the slightest evidence of recent habitation. They began a frantic-tinged scouring of the town in its entirety. More exhausted than either had believed possible and finding nothing, the two settled into one of the abandoned cottages on the edge of the town, and managed a few fleeting hours of rest.

At the first light of golden dawn, they gathered themselves, trekked back to the edge of town and, with sighs on their breath, turned back for one last glance, only to find themselves quite surprised.

The town was bustling, as far as such a small town could, with activity and with people. They rushed back and asked the first person they came across where everyone had been the night prior. “Right here, of course,” said the man, “you must not have been ready for us yet if you couldn’t see.” When he sees their confusion and bafflement, he chortles a cheery bellow of a laugh and says, “Can you tell me your names? How you got here? Where you came from?” 

The brothers open their mouths to respond, but find no answer on their tongues. A horror seeps into their bones and chases out the haze of exhaustion, for they have forgotten themselves in the duration of their journey. The man’s smile is imbued with a small portion of sadness as he tells them, “You’re ready now. Welcome home.”


End file.
